A new furnished apartment, some new clothes, and a nice, late-model vehicle purchased from a private party (all legal and in-person) and Jayda Locke became an established resident of Albuquerque—but the dreary winter days dragged on.
I picked up a new phone, bought a new Bible, shopped for new dishes, kitchen gadgets, sheets, towels, and blankets. Picked out a new laptop. Ordered new Kamagong sticks—from a different (and, yes, new) vendor.
New, new, new.
I’m starting to hate “new,” I groused.
With more energy than I needed coursing through my body and not enough physical or mental activity to keep me from going bonkers, I returned to my long morning runs and nightly regimen at the dojo. Ten miles of running during the day and four or five hours of intense workouts with Gus-Gus ensured that I could sleep the few hours my body required.
As for Gus-Gus? He worked me as hard as I could bear—which was pretty hard, considering normal human tolerances. What irked me was that no matter how good I got at stick fighting, he was always an increment or two better than me and was never entirely satisfied with my performance. He was forever egging me on to do better.
I figured the nanomites had programmed him to keep challenging me, and I guess I was good with that—but, oh man. Somedays I wanted so bad to wipe that smug, superior look off Gus-Gus’ face!
In my spare time, I explored my new-to-me Facebook and Pinterest profiles. Apparently, I’d been on Facebook for six years and Pinterest for four. My Pinterest boards centered around historic themes, especially early New Mexico photos.
Interesting. The nanomites know me well.
While I had “acquired” lots of followers on Pinterest, I had few friends on Facebook. I browsed my posting history and found that my Facebook experience centered around various pages and groups rather than interpersonal relationships. It would have been difficult for the nanomites to build Jayda Locke a friends list that had history to it. No matter; I liked what I saw in my newsfeed.
Facebook popped up a page it thought I would like: Downtown Community Church.
“What the heck.” I clicked on it, read through the list of events and activities—and got stuck on a Friday evening Bible study for young adults.
The group was led by DCC associate pastor Zander Cruz.
My finger traced his face on the screen, and I stared at the images of a circle of chairs and the earnest faces of men and women around my age discussing Scripture. I was hungry to know God’s word better. Longed to learn more.
Well, why couldn’t I?
I looked up the meeting time and place.
***
I checked myself in the mirror a third time. No, it was not Gemma Keyes looking back at me. The reflection was disconcerting on one hand and reassuring on the other. I took a deep breath, got my purse and Bible, and headed out the door.
The young adult study group met in the fellowship hall at the rear of the DCC building. Maybe ten cars in the lot told me that some of the group’s members had already arrived. Feeling nervous, I waited until another car arrived and a young woman got out. As she started for the doors, I joined her.
“Hi! Are you new?” she asked.
“Um, yeah. Yes.”
More “new” than you’d ever believe.
“Welcome. I’m Nance Peterman.”
“Jayda Locke.”
“Good to meet you, Jayda. I’ll introduce you around.”
She grabbed my arm and steered me toward the coffee bar. “Hey, Izzie. This is Jayda. This is her first time here.”
Gah! My legs almost buckled. It hadn’t dawned on me that Zander’s sister might—would almost certainly—be at the study!
Izzie, boundless energy personified, ran out from behind the coffee bar and grabbed me in a tight hug. “Hi Jayda. I’m Izzie Cruz. I’m so glad you’re here! Since it’s your first time, you get a free cup of coffee.”
“Um, cool. Thank you.” I struggled to find something else to say. “So, uh, what is the group studying right now?”
Izzie bounced back behind the counter and picked up an empty cup. While she filled it, she chattered on about the study.
“We’re in the Book of Romans. My brother leads the study, but don’t worry. He’s not one of those pontificating kind of teachers. He’s more of a facilitator of conversation. Says that applying the word to our hearts and lives is the most important aspect of a study.”
I shivered with relief. Izzie didn’t recognize me, didn’t have a clue—but, then, she and I had only met a few times.
The real test would be Zander—Zander, who knew me so well. Would he see through the nanomites’ disguise? Even though I no longer looked or sounded like Gemma Keyes, would he see past those things? Would some intangible part of me sneak out and speak to him? Or would I remain anonymous?
I took my coffee and followed Nance to a circle of chairs. We took seats together and Izzie joined us, plopping down on my other side.
Zander had been talking to a group of guys. At a signal from him, the guys broke up and found their seats in the circle.
I hadn’t seen Zander until that moment, but one glimpse set my heart pounding.
He looked tired and wonderful at the same time.
“How’s everyone tonight? Shall we get started? But before we do, it looks like we have a visitor. Izzie, would you please introduce her?”
Izzie jumped up and gestured toward me. “Hey, all. This is Jayda Locke. Jayda, this is ‘everyone.’ I’ll let you tell the group a little about yourself.”
Talk about on the spot! My throat closed and I choked on my coffee and started coughing.
Zander nodded. “Don’t be alarmed, Jayda. We don’t bite—well, not too often anyway.”
The fifteen or so within the circle laughed. I did, too—when I caught my breath.
All eyes were on me. Izzie patted my leg. I cleared the lump out of my throat.
“Well, um, as Izzie said, my name is Jayda. I’m a new Christian, and I . . . found this Bible study group on Facebook, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
“We’re glad you’re here, and I hope we make you feel welcome. What do you do, Jayda? What are your interests?” Zander asked
I relaxed a bit. “Let’s see. I’m an Albuquerque native. I lived out of state last year, but I’m back and looking for work.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Zander prompted me.
“Mostly project management, although I’ll take whatever comes my way first.”
“Well, that’s serendipitous,” one of the guys to the right of Zander said. “I work at Raytheon and saw a posting for a project controls specialist this morning.”
“Really?” Raytheon was a solid company with contracts in various government branches.
“Yup. Give me your number after the meeting, and I’ll text you the link.”
The guy next to him snorted. “Riiiight, Josh. Way to get the new girl’s number.”
Amid hoots and more ribbing, the same guy yelled across the circle, “Jayda, I’m Todd. Give me your number, and I’ll do a job search for you.”
Well, that set everyone off again, and I couldn’t help but laugh with them. It looked like Jayda was attracting the kind of attention Gemma never had. I didn’t mind—in fact, it was flattering, except . . . Zander, with a tolerant smile on his face, was paging through his Bible. It seemed that he had no interest in Jayda.
He was kind. Cordial. Personable. And insensible to my disguise.
He raised his hand, calling for order. “Now that all the guys have made Jayda feel about as welcome as a lone wildebeest stumbling onto a pride of lions . . .”
More laughter.
He caught my eye across the circle. “If they get too annoying, just beat them off with a stick, Jayda. You have my permission. I’ll even help.”
The girls cheered and the guys groaned. I admit that I snickered.
“Let’s open to Romans 2. We had a lively discussion on judgment from verses 1-3 last week, but this evening we’re going focus on two points found in verse 4: The relationship between God’s many loving attributes and repentance. Yes, repentance.”
That drew a collective groan from the group.
With that same patient smile, Zander ignored their protests. “All right, everyone. As soon as you all find Romans 2, we’ll read the verse together.”
While Zander waited for the group to open their Bibles to the right chapter, Izzie leaned toward my ear. “Don’t mind my brother. If he’s a little subdued, it’s because he recently lost a good friend.”
My head snapped up. “Oh?”
“Yes. You might have read about her or seen her on the news. Her name was Gemma Keyes. She and her sister were killed when their house blew up. Just horrible. Really hit Zander hard.”
I licked my lips. “Was . . . was this girl special to Zander? I mean, well, you know.”
“I don’t know for sure. Zander is cautious and careful not to play fast and loose, if you take my meaning. But . . . well, I think she was special to him. I just can’t be sure.”
She shook her head. “To tell the truth, he won’t talk about it—which only makes me think he is hurting more than he lets on.”
“This . . . Gemma. I heard, um, things about her.” I couldn’t help it. I had to know what Izzie believed about me. About Gemma.
“You mean how every law enforcement agency in New Mexico was looking for her? How the media painted her as a terrorist or said she had committed some kind of national security crime? The weird part is that none of those things jibe with the Gemma Keyes I knew.
“Well, actually, I didn’t know her all that well, but Zander? When I asked him about the accusations, he just got this angry look in his eyes like he knew something I didn’t and lectured me with, ‘Don’t believe ill of someone until they’ve been proven guilty in a court of law,’ and—”
“Izzie? Something of importance you’d like to share with the rest of the group?” Zander skewered his sister with one of those arched-brow, reproving looks I’d seen him use during their playful sibling banter—which only brought on more laughter from the group.
“Nope. It’s all girl talk over here, bro.” she sent him her own wide-eyed, innocent, stare, “Nothing you’d be interested in.”
After everyone stopped laughing and found their place, we read aloud together,
or do you show contempt
for the riches of his kindness,
forbearance and patience,
not realizing that God’s kindness
is intended to lead you
to repentance?
“The opening word, ‘or,’ relies on the first three verses of the chapter,” Zander explained, “and we discussed them last week. Tonight, let’s look at how verse 4 presents ‘the riches of his kindness, forbearance, and patience.’ What is the Apostle Paul’s point in listing these attributes?”
“It seems obvious that God’s kindness, forbearance, and patience are all intended to lead us to repentance,” Nance suggested.
“Right. The whole point of God’s mercy and kindness is to bring us to a place of repentance. But, what, exactly, is repentance? Why is it important? Is it the nasty word the world has made it out to be?”
One guy shrugged. “I think repentance is kind of off-putting.”
“Can you explain why you feel that way?” Zander asked.
“Maybe because it feels like shame? Or punishment? Or that I have to pay for or repair what I’ve done? I mean, some damage can’t be fixed, you know? Can’t be undone.”
A young woman near me raised her hand. “That’s how I feel when I’ve blown it—that I have to suffer for the wrong I’ve done or try really hard to fix the problem I’ve caused—and I feel guilty when I can’t do it. All that guilt seems to keep me glued in the same spot. I end up feeling farther from God instead of closer to him.”
I murmured aloud, “A friend of mine once told me that repairing the damage we cause follows after repentance and forgiveness. If we don’t repent and allow Jesus to wash us clean before we rush off to fix the mess we’ve made? Well, we’ll just make the same mistake again.”
Ooops. The words popped out before I could stop them. Words that Zander had once spoken from his heart to mine. Words that had become a lifeline for my wayward heart.
And everyone was staring at me. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I shifted in my chair and chanced another look at the group—but the nods and agreement around the circle were sincere and hopeful.
As for Zander? The expression that crept over his features was, well . . . thunderstruck.
He stared. I stared. We stared.
Izzie glanced from me to her brother and back. “Interesting!” She was practically gloating.
I ripped my eyes away from Zander and fixed them on my Bible. I didn’t say a word during the rest of the study.
At the end of the discussion period, we had a time of prayer followed by snacks and fellowship. It was pleasant, being with other people my age. I mingled and smiled and said hello. I discovered, to my surprise, that I wasn’t shy like Gemma had been. I didn’t feel the compulsion to hide in the background, even though I still preferred to listen and watch, rather than talk.
When the evening wound down, I shouldered my purse, said goodbye to Nance and Izzie, and walked toward the door. I was partway across the fellowship hall when I realized someone was behind me.
“Jayda?”
I stopped in my tracks. “Yes?”
Zander drew alongside me. “I enjoyed having you in our study tonight. Will you be coming back?”
“Uh, I haven’t decided yet. I liked it, though.”
He searched my face, searched my eyes. “You . . . you remind me of someone.”
I swallowed. Reddened. “Oh?”
He nodded—and out of the blue, he snagged my fingers and curled them up in his. My fingers tingled all the way up my arm.
“Gemma?”
I froze. “No, it’s Jayda.”
He didn’t let go of my fingers, and his eyes never left my face. “Jayda Locke, is it?”
“Yes, Jayda.”
“Jayda. Got it.”
And turning his head a little so if anyone were watching they would not see, he lowered one eyelid. Down. And up. A slow, purposeful wink.
I had to fight to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up in delight. I glanced around, too.
Shoot. There was Izzie, eyeballing us like a roadrunner fixated on a grasshopper.
“You can never tell anyone, Zander, or do anything to give me away. Especially to Izzie.”
“I . . . understand.”
“I mean it. Not ever.”
He nodded. “But . . . can we be friends? Jayda and I? Can we . . . go to dinner tomorrow evening, for instance?”
“Uhhh.”
“Meet me at P.F. Chang’s? I’ll make a reservation for seven o’clock.”
“All right.”
~~**~~